*label ch3_sentry_c
A familiar blonde wig appears from the ladder followed by Camilla's frowning face. Ignoring the unusual nighttime guest, I quickly turn my gaze back to the spot where the person was. However, there's nothing.

A series of curses draw my attention back to Camilla, as she tries to hoist herself to the platform. The words she's shooting into the air are wholly unfit for a woman of her stature, yet I doubt she cares. She seems to be having trouble with her layers of dresses. 

"Are you going to help me or not?" She finally snaps.

*fake_choice
    #"Of course, ma'am."
        *set rude -2
        Ignoring her rudeness I stand up and give her a hand. She takes a tight grip of my palm and yanks herself up with a scorn.
    #"Fine." Stand up and help her.
        Ignoring her rudeness I stand up and give her a hand. She takes a tight grip of my palm and yanks herself up with a scorn.
    #"No."
        *set rude +2
        Her eyes widen at my insolent words.
        
        "You little shit—" I can hear her grumble under her breath. She finally manages to hoist herself up, an act that's followed by even more cursing.
        
        "I should shove you into the river—" She mutters.
        
        "What was that?" I feign ignorance.
        
        She shoots me with a piercing glare and I'm half-expecting her to jump at my throat.
        
Finally, she sits down with an annoyed puff, tearing the delicate fabric of her cloak away from her face. 

The situation is peculiar and the fact that she's wearing her usual daytime getup somehow manages to enhance the effect. Her skin looks even whiter under the cold light of the stars and the moon.

*fake_choice
    #"Ma'am? Why are you here?"
        *set rude -1
        She sighs. "My husband—" She spits the word [i]husband[/i] out as if it's something rotten. "He was hosting a dinner party."
        
        It doesn't explain why she would come here, of all places, but I suppose it explains the attire.
    #"What are you doing here?"
        She sighs. "My husband—" She spits the word [i]husband[/i] out as if it's something rotten. "He was hosting a dinner party."
        
        It doesn't explain why she would come here, of all places, but I suppose it explains the attire.
    #Remain silent.
        "You're not going to ask?"
        
        I shake my head. 
        
        "That's the one thing I really like about you." She almost looks like she's telling the truth. However, whether that's a compliment or not is another story.

She gets up, her gaze determined. Then, without turning to face me, she says: "I know you're from Caledonia."

My eyes widen. How does she know that? And, perhaps even more importantly, why hasn't she done anything with the knowledge? 

Or has she? Are the guards already on their way to feed me to the warhounds? 

I strain my ears to hear if someone followed Camilla here to have my head. But there's nothing. 

"Relax, I didn't tell you that to threaten you." She has a self-satisfied smile on her face, as if she's content with the reaction I gave her. She just wanted to rattle me? 

"Or perhaps I did."

"What are you going to do?" It seems pointless to deny what she knows.

"Maybe nothing." She walks to the railing and gazes at the river. "For the time being."

*page_break
*choice
    #I am too tired to play the game right now.
        *goto ch3_tired
    #Inspect her bodylanguage to find out what she's about to.
        *goto ch3_bodylanguage

*label ch3_bodylanguage
Her posture is relaxed as she gazes at the river. Her blue dress flows lazily in the wind. She tells nothing with her body, nor with her words. It's impossible to read her.

This is frustrating.

She's looking at me from the corner of her eye. "What are you thinking?"

*fake_choice
    #"Whether you're about to kill me or not."
        *set manipulative -2
        That's the truth, that is the most pressing matter in my mind. She studies me for a while, her expression unreadable. Then, she says: "You should expect death at this point. Do you?"
        
        *fake_choice
            #"No."
                She cocks her head. "Then you are even more of a fool than I thought."
                
                I suppose I am. To be where I am and to think that I will survive alive from this all. It is foolish.
                
                "Indeed," I mimic her usual response and give her a small shrug. Who can blame me for wanting to live? Even after what's happened.
            #"Yes."
                She nods in approval. "That's good."
                
                Good that I'm expecting to die soon? I suppose that's one way to look at it.
    #"That you're beautiful."
        She bursts out laughing. "You're an absolute fool." 
        
        I shrug. Perhaps I am. She came here threatening to kill me and here I am, complimenting her like a fool. 
        
        *fake_choice
            #She [i]is[/i] beautiful, I'm just stating a fact.
                *set manipulative -2
                She knows it, too. It's shown in the way she carries herself, how she talks to people. She knows she's also terrifying to many people, how easily she could get anyone killed if she wanted to. In this society where status is everything, she has the upper hand.
            #This might soften her up, get her guards down.
                *set manipulative +2
                It's not the most intricate of plans but it will most likely work. She already looks more relaxed due to her fit of laughter. It's as if she doesn't believe I'd be foolish enough to flatter her after what she said.
                
                She must think I'm either a fool, or that I'm playing her. She squints her eyes at me after the laughter dies. She's pondering between the two options.
    #"Nothing."
        "Playing coy, are you? How boring." She sighs.
        
        "I'm not here to entertain you."
        
        "That's a blessing, you'd be horrible at it."
    #"That I should kill you for threatening me."
        *set manipulative -2
        It's a bold move to express my feelings so openly. But it's true. I should kill her for what she knows. However, both of us know that I can't. 
        
        It's the same with Marcus. Both of them know. Yet I can do nothing about it. But to wait. 
        
        At least for the time being.
        
        She studies my features with an unreadable expression. "You should. But you can't. How does it make you feel?"
        
        *fake_choice
            #"Powerless."
                She nods. "You are powerless."
                
                Well, that's blunt. I was blunt, too. That makes the two of us.
            #"Weak."
                She shakes her head. "You are not weak."
                
                "But I can't do anything."
                
                "That doesn't make you weak. It makes you powerless."
                
                How is that any better, I almost ask but hold my tongue.
            #"Afraid."
                She nods. "You should."
            #"Nothing."
                She cocks her head. "Interesting."
    #"Why you haven't done anything with the knowledge."
        "That's a good question, isn't it?" She gives me a small, devious smile. "What makes you think I haven't?"
        
        "No one has yet to kill me."
        
        Still she smiles and turns her gaze back to the river.
        
The exchange revealed nothing of her intentions. She seems to ignore my presence, as if she didn't just let me know that she has reason to get me killed. 

*choice
    #If that is her game, I should try to manipulate her myself.
        *set manipulative +5
        *set camilla_manipulator true
        I squint my eyes at her. Not enough for her to notice, I hope.
        
        I should decide my strategy. What would work on her? She is difficult to read but not impossible. 
        
        She misses her home, Rome. She dislikes her position as the Legate's wife. She finds other cultures interesting. Why? Because of her disdain of her status?
        
        I'll have to see what to do with that.
        *goto ch3_flask
    #Just try to ignore it for now.
        It's as if nothing of the sort happened. Perhaps I should just let it be, then. If I can.
        *goto ch3_flask
        
*label ch3_tired
I slump my upper body on the railing with a sigh. The voice in my head, my family, the fate of the twins, everything is starting to wear down on me. "I don't care for these games for the moment."
        
She turns to me with an unreadable expression. Finally she says: "That's a pity." She turns her gaze back to the river. 
        
Finally she spits out, as if the question feels out of place in her mouth: "Are you alright?"

*fake_choice
    #"No, I'm not."
        *set manipulative -1
        She raises her brow at me slightly, as if asking if I want to talk about it. 
        
        I shake my head. 
        
        She nods. 
    #"Of course I am."
        *set manipulative +1
        Of course I'm not, but the lie escapes me without much thought.
        
        She doesn't look convinced. How could she? I just told her that I'm not alright, but in a less direct way. I deflect her intrusive gaze. "I'm just tired. That is all."
        
        She nods. "I can see that." She sits on a chair next to mine. She doesn't bother to move it away from me, nor clean the wood before taking a seat.
        
        There's a slight whiff of wine lingering on her. 
    #Remain silent.
        I don't know what to say, whether to tell the truth or to lie. Whether it matters at all. 
        
        So I stay quiet. 
        
        She waits for a couple of moments before nodding. Not a word leaves her lips, either. Just a seemingly understanding nod communicates me that she either doesn't care to know, or that she won't force me to answer.
        
        I would bet on the former.
*goto ch3_flask

*label ch3_flask
Silence falls between us. As the wind slowly dies down, so does any trace of sound that came with it. Only a pair of guardsmen passing the tower can be heard from time to time; otherwise the fort is dead silent. As is the watchtower.

Soon a shuffling of cloth disturbs the silence. I turn to see Camilla digging up a leather flask from underneath her cloak. "Want a sip?" 

*fake_choice
    #"Sure."
        She gives me the flask with a unreadable expression. Her gaze lingers on my mouth as I take a sip. I can almost hear the smallest of sighs leaving her lips. 
        
        *fake_choice
            #The intensity of her gaze makes heat rise up to my cheeks.
                *set clueless +2
                What is she staring at me about? I'm just drinking like she asked me to. However, I don't dare to ask. Perhaps it's the wine spreading its heat across my face already. That happens, right?
                
                Of course it does, that's how alcohol works. 
                
                She cocks her head at me and before she asks, I interrupt her: "It's the wine."
                
                She lets out a laugh. "Oh. Right."
                *page_break
            #What is she sighing about? I'm just drinking.
                *set clueless +2
                I'm taking a sip as she asked me to. Why is she staring at my mouth? 
                
                So, the question leaves my lips before I can think any better. If I even want to hear the answer:"What is it?"
                
                Her eyes dart to mine. She squints but doesn't drop her gaze. "I hope your lips don't have herpes."
                
                That's what she was worried about? "Well, no. I don't have that."
                
                "Good. It's running rampant in Rome."
                
                "Herpes is?"
                
                "The greeting kisses. If someone tries to kiss you, just dodge."
                
                "Oh. Alright." If some Roman tried to kiss me, I'd punch them.
                *page_break
            #Hm? Oh. I'm drinking from the same flask she is. And I shall do so without hesitation.
                *set clueless -2
                *set brazen +2
                Is she self-conscious about it? Interesting. I wonder why? But I don't ask. I merely look her in the eyes as I take a sip. She squints her eyes but doesn't drop her gaze.
                
                Who blushes first, who looks away? I take another gulp of wine and squint my eyes, too.
                
                Finally, with pursed lips she looks away.
                
                Ha-ha! I won.
                *page_break
        
        The liquid inside tastes sweeter than I anticipated. There's a lot of honey in this wine. Also, it tastes quite strong. There's no water mixed in.
        
        After studying my expression she says: "I prefer my wine unmixed."
        
        "Isn't that quite barbaric?" A smirk forces its way onto my features. The Romans prefer their wine tamed and diluted. Drinking wine in its full strength is for us dirty barbarians.
        
        She snorts. "Indeed!" She takes the flask back and takes another drink. "Did you know that I could be killed for drinking wine?"
        
        "Hm?"
        
        "There used to be a time when husbands would check their wives' breath when they returned home. If there was even a whiff of alcohol, he could legally kill her."
        
        "Why?"
        
        "Alcohol is the first step towards infidelity." She curls her lips in contempt. "According to them."
        
        "The Legate doesn't mind?" I gesture toward the flask, now back in hiding inside her cloak.
        
        "Pffft!" She lets out a cold laughter. "He wouldn't dare."
        
        I shake my head. Sounds like another stupid Roman custom.
    #"No, thanks."
        She shrugs and puts the flask back into her cloak. "Suit yourself."
    #"Are you in a habit of tippling?"
        *set rude +1
        She squints her eyes and quickly shoves the flask back where she took it from. "You're a rude son of a bitch."
        
        "Takes one to know one."
        
        "I'm not rude."
        
        "Ma'am, you must be the rudest woman I've ever met."
        
        She gazes at the river for a moment or two before shrugging. "Fair."

She came here to threaten me, yet it all ended up with her offering me a drink. What a curious encounter.

Another game of hers? It's difficult to say.

*fake_choice
    #Look at her.
        I take a peek at her, as if to see her real intentions. They're not there to be seen, of course. There is only her slightly disheveled blonde wig, a cloak that has been left without straightening after her climb here, a light pink on her cheeks, likely caused by the spiced wine she's carrying in her flask.
        
        And a whiff of bittersweet saffron.
        
    #Look at the river.
        Just as I rest my gaze back to the river, I can hear just the slightest of sighs next to me. It's a weary sigh, which almost makes me want to ask.

*fake_choice
    #"Are you feeling well?"
        She snaps her gaze at me and squints her eyes. But no snarl leaves her lips, despite the look on her face.
                
        Instead, she sighs. "No." And for some reason I think that she's speaking the truth.
                
        If I asked, she wouldn't tell me what's wrong. Just as I wouldn't tell her. So I don't bother. Instead, both of our gazes end up lingering on the same target: the lazily flowing river. The moon reflects in its surface, making it look liquid silver.
                
        It's quite beautiful.
    #Let it be.
        She wouldn't tell, even if I asked. Just as I wouldn't tell her. So I don't bother. Instead, both of our gazes end up lingering on the same target: the lazily flowing river. The moon reflects in its surface, making it look liquid silver.
                
        It's quite beautiful.
*goto_scene chapter_3 ch3_next_day

*label ch3_sentry_t
Tinsae's curly hair is the first thing to appear in my line of sight as she makes her way up the ladder. Ignoring the unusual nighttime guest, I quickly turn my gaze back to the spot where the person was. However, there's nothing.

"Excuse me? Could you perhaps—" Tinsae's words draw my attention back to her. She seems to have problems hoisting herself to the platform.

*fake_choice
    #"My lady, let me help you." Stand up and help her.
        *set rude -1
        *set tinsae_friendship +1
        She waits for my arrival with an apologetic smile. "I tried to get up on my own, but this dress—"
        
        I take a firm hold of her hand and help her take the last step. Her white dress is almost too delicate for the weather but she makes it up with a woolen hooded cloak. It's black in color, its hem embroidered with golden thread.
    #"My lady! What are you doing here at this hour?" Stand up and hastily help her.
        *set rude -1
        *set tinsae_friendship +1
        She waits for my arrival with an apologetic smile. "I tried to get up on my own, but this dress—"
        
        I take a firm hold of her hand and help her take the last step. Her white dress is almost too delicate for the weather, but she makes it up with a woolen hooded cloak. It's black in color, its hem embroidered with golden thread.
    #Remain seated and watch as she tries to get up.
        *set rude +5
        *set tinsae_friendship -5
        She gives me a slightly dirty look before biting her lip. She takes her time but finally she manages to hoist herself up. It's her delicate white dress which hinders her movement. She straightens her black hooded cloak with golden embroidery and looks me in the eyes.
        
        "Didn't your mother teach you manners?"
        
        "Not really, my lady. She taught me other things."
        
        She shakes her head. "I hope the other things serve you well, Hati. That was awfully rude of you."
        
        I shrug.
        
        "Someone ought to teach you…" I swear I can hear her mutter under her breath but it's difficult to tell.

"I'm sorry to disturb your watch." She straightens dress and gives me a small smile. "Your friend, Quinn, told me that you're here. I wanted to make sure you're fine."

I almost frown at the warm words. She doesn't seem to hide any ulterior motives, as fas as I can tell. If she is, she's hiding them extremely well. "Thank you," I say, quickly. Appreciation over her gesture does make me feel a bit giddy inside, I hate to admit that. However, it's weird to hear that Quinn would inform her of my watch.

"I was just leaving the Legate's dining party, I had to excuse myself. I think I'm getting too old for late night partying."

*fake_choice
    #"My lady, you are not old."
        *set rude -2
        "I know, I know." She sighs, as if she's seen too much of the world already. A small laugh leaves her lips. "Sometimes I definitely feel like it."
        
        She says that with a weariness coating her words, as if she has already seen too much of this world. Instinctively, it makes me ask: "Is there anything I can help with?"
        
        She gives me a wide smile, one that easily reaches her eyes, causing flattering wrinkles in the corners of her eyes. "No, but you're sweet. Thank you."
    #"How old are you?"
        A puff of air leaves her nostrils before she gives me small smile. "Can you guess?"
        *fake_choice
            #"20?"
                *set rude -1
                She starts laughing. "Did you just try to protect my feelings?"
                
                Caught in the act. "But you do look young."
                
                "Thank you. You are too sweet. I am, however, way passed the twenty-something club."
                
                I nod. She does look young. It must be easier to take care of your skin when you have money and resources.
            #"25?"
                *set rude -1
                She starts laughing. "Did you just try to protect my feelings?"
                
                Caught in the act. "But you do look young."
                
                "Thank you. You are too sweet. I am, however, way passed the twenty-something club."
                
                I nod. She does look young. It must be easier to take care of your skin when you have money and resources.
            #"30?"
                It seems close. She gives me an approving nod. "Close enough. Just a bit older. You're good at this."
            #"35?"
                It seems close. She gives me an approving nod. "Quite close. You're good at this."
            #"40?"
                It's a risky guess. I don't necessarily think that she looks that old, maybe I'm just poking a reaction from her.
                
                She bursts out laughing. "You're a scoundrel. An absolute scoundrel."
                
                I give her a small grin. I guess I am. She doesn't seem too offended, she merely shakes her head.
    #Remain silent.
        I don't know what to say. She doesn't look that old.

"May I?" She gestures to the chair next to me. It's a dirty chair, soldiers don't care for cleanliness. 

*fake_choice
    #Clean the chair a bit before she takes a seat.
        *set rude -1
        "Just a moment." I quickly sweep the chair clean before she sits down. 
        *if hobby_fashion
            Her dress is clearly made of pure silk! It won't be stained, not if I can help it.
        *if not(hobby_fashion) 
            Her dress must cost a fortune. I wouldn't want her to stain it.
    #Wait for her to sit down.
        She gives the stained chair a quick look before gracefully sitting on it.

A whiff of something rich and sweet creeps into my nostrils as she takes her seat. It's combined with the familiar scent of roasted nuts.

She cocks her head and gives me a small smile. "Are you feeling well?" Her deep-brown eyes scrutinize me, but not in a way that I'm used to around these parts. It's an inquisitive gaze, as if she truly cared what I'm thinking. She doesn't seem to ask that to judge me.

What did she say? That she came from a party hosted by the Legate.

It means she is close to the Legate, and she doesn't seem to share the scheming nature of her scowling friend, Camilla. Maybe she could be my ticket closer to the Legate? Maybe this is what Quinn had in mind, too. Tinsae waits for my answer politely before finally turning her gaze to the river when I don't answer.

Should I… manipulate her?

*fake_choice
    #I don't know. I'm not sure if I want that.
        I bite my lip as I watch the shape of her profile. It feels scummy, she didn't have any part in what happened. However, I really do need information and resources.
        
        With a shake of my head I, too, turn my gaze to behold the river.
    #No. I'm not using her.
        Even if I feel resources and information, it feels scummy to get them out of her through manipulation. She didn't have any part in what happened. I take a look at the shape of her profile. I will have to come up with something else. 
        
        With a shake of my head I, too, turn my gaze to behold the river.
    #Yes. This might work.
        *set tinsae_manipulator true
        I knit my brows as I watch the shape of her profile. She seems to possess some sort of nurturing side. That's easy to take advantage of. It's time to play a little poor old victim. 
        
        I frown, just slightly, as if in pain. "I'd rather not talk about it, my lady."
        
        She quickly raises her hands to soothe my shaken state. "Please, I didn't mean to pry. We can talk about whatever you'd like."
        
        "Thank you. It's just that… with everything that's happened. Sometimes it feels too much."
        
        She bobs her head in understanding, her brows slightly creased. "If you ever need anything…"
        
        I nod, seemingly in appreciation. She seems too bright for me to start gathering information this fast. I need to soften her first.
        
        I nod, again. This time giving her an appreciative smile. "I will let you know. Thank you."

Silence falls between us. As the wind slowly dies down, so does any trace of sound that came with it. Only a pair of guardsmen passing the tower can be heard from time to time; otherwise the fort is dead silent. As is the watchtower.

That is, until my stomach lets out a loud growl. The silence amplifies the sound in the somewhat closed area. The loaf of bread wasn't nearly enough to keep my hunger at bay.

*fake_choice
    #That's embarrassing.
        A light blush rises to my cheeks. I quickly look at Tinsae to make sure she didn't hear. However, how could she not? The whole tower must've shaken to its core.
        
        Indeed, she's already looking at me with her mouth slightly ajar. "Was that your stomach?"
        
        There's no mind in denying that. Both of us know it was me. "…Yes."
    #One cannot help one's bodily functions.
        If anything, this volume of growling hurts my insides. It's more annoying than embarrassing. 
        
        "Was that your stomach?" She looks at me with her mouth slightly ajar. I do have to admit that the sound was slightly loud.
        
        "Yes, it was."

"What a mighty roar that was." She lets out a small giggle. "That reminds me." She starts searching something from her bag I just notice she's carrying. "I brought you some food." 

'Some' food proves to be an almost full dinner for one. There are different slices of meat covered in different sauces, pieces of fruits, cabbage, nuts, cheeses…  I just stare at the food while my stomach starts loudly demanding it all.

Tinsae giggles a little at my rioting stomach before gesturing at the food. "Please, have as much as you'd like."

*fake_choice
    #Thank her and take some. Not all of it. I'm not a brute.
        *set rude -1
        *set disciplined +1
        *if vegetarian
            I pick some of the tastier looking vegetarian options and end up with an handful of food on my lap. I really had to stop myself from taking it all. The usual grains and bread were starting to taste like ash in my mouth, this is pure luxury.
            
            "You're a vegetarian?"
            
            I nod.
            
            "Lovely." She smiles. "There are not many of you in the army."
            
            I have had my share of weird looks when I've refused to eat any game the soldiers managed to hunt.
        *if not(vegetarian)
            I pick some of the tastier looking options and end up with an handful of food on my lap. I really had to stop myself from taking it all. The usual grains and bread were starting to taste like ash in my mouth, this is pure luxury.   
    #Just take it all quickly before she changes her mind. At least as much as my lap can carry.
        *set rude +1
        *if vegetarian
            I quickly pick all the vegetarian options and start hoarding them on my lap. The usual grains and bread were starting to taste like ash in my mouth, this is pure luxury.
    
            "You're a vegetarian?"
    
            I nod in between my bites.
    
            "Lovely." She smiles, but the smile has returned back to its polite form, it doesn't reach her eyes. "There are not many of you in the army."
            
            I have had my share of weird looks when I've refused to eat any game the soldiers managed to hunt.
        *if not(vegetarian)
            I take all that she's offering and start hoarding them on my lap. The usual grains and bread were starting to taste like ash in my mouth, this is pure luxury. 
            
            She smiles, but the smile has returned back to its polite form, it doesn't reach her eyes. 
            
        "You were really hungry?"
        
        I grunt as an answer as I shove more food in my mouth. Her brows are slightly lifted as she watches me eat. Then, she shakes her head and the smile starts to get its warmth back once again.
        
        "You're from the countryside?"
        
        More like a forest. Wait a moment? Is she insulting my table manners?
        
        As the realization hits me, she starts to giggle. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend. It's good that the food is well-received."
    #Decline the offer.
        I shake my head. She knits her brows. She looks more confused than irritated. 
        
        "But aren't you hungry? The sounds your stomach made…"
        
        My stomach answers for me, it growls like a banshee trying to force me to eat. I frown at the foolish belly, this is no time to start bending to the will of the flesh.
        
        I'm not sure why I refuse the offer. There's something weird about accepting food from strangers. It makes me feel indebted.
        
        She nods slowly and starts putting the food back into her bag. "I understand that it can be awkward to accept food from others." She gives me a small smile. "I will take these elsewhere, they won't go to waste."

Soon three knocks on the ladder fazes the both of us. Tinsae turns to me.

"Caleb. My bodyguard. He thinks it's time to go." She stands up with a warm smile. "It was lovely to meet you, Hati. I hope we can do this again, soon."

Before I can answer, she's already on her way back down. And then I am once more all alone in the watchtower. After her departure the space feels a bit more cold. 

I fasten the cloak around me a little tighter to keep the early winter winds at bay.
*goto_scene chapter_3 ch3_next_day

*label ch3_sentry_n
Niall's worried face pops up from the ladder. Ignoring the unusual nighttime guest, I quickly turn my gaze back to the spot where the person was. However, there's nothing. Niall draws my attention back to him by spattering words that are filled with seemingly warm concern: "It's a cold evening. Do you have enough clothes to keep you warm?" 

The worry and care his words seep is almost starting to get annoying. Why would I believe that he cares for my well-being? He gives me an oblivious smile and a spare cape he brought with him. His golden embellished belt peeks from under a pure-white cloak trimmed with fur. It looks much warmer than mine.

*if clothes = "fine"
    I do have a warm layer of extra cloth underneath my cloak. It's pleasant against my skin and it protects me well enough from the Northern wind. The extra cloak Niall is offering, however, looks almost too inviting to pass on.
*if clothes = "cheap" 
    I lack any warm layer underneath my cloak. All I have is an old rag. It's cold, and I'm seriously starting to plan my trip to the store and buy better equipment. The extra cloak Niall is offering looks too inviting to pass on.

*choice
    #Take the cloak with a scorn.
        *set rude +1
        I almost yank the cloak from his grasp and give him a suspicious look. He smiles widely and seemingly without any ulterior motives, as if he was expecting my reaction. It's almost infuriating but I quickly put the cloak on and sigh in content. Inwardly, of course, wouldn't want him to notice.
        *goto ch3_niall_cloak
    #Take the cloak with a hesitant smile and thank him.
        *set rude -1
        "Umm. Thank you."
        
        "You are most certainly welcome!" He gives me a wide smile. I quickly put the cloak on and try not to appear too appreciative as it manages to warm up my muscles and my soul with it.
        *goto ch3_niall_cloak
    #Take the cloak with a small wink and a fake smile.
        *set manipulative +1
        It's almost unnoticeable, the heat rising onto his cheeks. But it's there. The stars reveal the darkened skin underneath his beard.
        
        He's too easy to agitate. It's almost pleasant, getting the desired reaction from him.
        *goto ch3_niall_cloak
    #Take the cloak with an expressionless face and a nod.
        I nod as a thanks and take the cloak. It's as warm as it looked.
        *goto ch3_niall_cloak
    #Don't take the cloak.
        I shake my head in a steadfast manner. I'll manage on my own. I'm not freezing and it's better to be a little cold to stay awake. Besides, might take it the wrong way if I went and took his offer.
        *goto ch3_niall_why

*label ch3_niall_cloak
*fake_choice
    #The cloak smells nice.
        As I wrap the cloak around me tightly, a whiff of a 
        *if niall_sniff
            familiar
        *if not(niall_sniff)
            unfamiliar 
        earthy scent enters my nostrils.
        
        *if not(niall_sniff)
            It's like a field of heathers on a sunny late summer.
        *if niall_sniff
            It's the same scent I already took a whiff at earlier. It's still pleasant. 
        It soothes my mind and relaxes my muscles. Then I realize why: it reminds me of the forest the grove was surrounded by. Pillows of lichen, moss, and heather filled the soil beneath the ancient trees. 
        
        There's something mixing in with the heather, however. There's the scent of rosemary, of chamomile, with a touch of yarrow.
        
        "Hati? Are you alright?"
        
        I quickly open my eyes and realize that Niall's been looking at me this whole time I've been taking a good sniff at his cloak.
        
        *fake_choice
            #Blush.
                I've been caught in an act. Not that he knows what sort of an act it was and I'm merely making the situation even worse, but I can't help the heat spreading through my cheeks. 
                
                "Are you quite warm already?" He asks. The question is innocent, as if he truly thinks the redness on my face is caused by his warm cloak. Thank the Twins for this foolish man.
                
                "Yes. It's a good cloak. Thank you."
                
                His face lights up and he gives me a bright beam. "You're welcome."
            #Pretend to take a good sniff at the wind. And comment on it.
                "It sure smells nice."
                
                "What does?"
                
                "The wind. It carries the scent of the river. Fish. It's… nice."
                
                Niall takes a small sniff at the wind before giving me a slightly confused nod. "I suppose so, yes. The wind does smell a little fishy this close to the river."
                    
                He clears his throat and shifts the target of his gaze to the river. Yes, thank you, let's forget about this.
            #Just look at him. I don't know what to say.
                My mind blanks as I try to figure out myself as to why I am taking a whiff of a cloak that smells like him.
                
                He clears his throat and shifts the target of his gaze to the river. Yes, thank you, let's forget about this.
            #Give him a solemn nod. "Yes. I am fine."
                He gives me a nod, too, a slightly confused one, but he quickly recovers and shifts the target of his gaze to the river.
        *goto ch3_niall_why
    #I'm not sniffing the cloak.
        I ignore the scent that lingers on the cloak and focus on the man before me.
        *goto ch3_niall_why
        
*label ch3_niall_why
I would ask what he's doing here, but I doubt I'd get a different answer from his usual 'just wanted to make sure you're okay' or something akin to that. That's his game. 

To kill me with his so-called kindness.

"Did you come here to check if I'm cold?" Disbelief coats my words. It's hard to disguise, he's acting in a perplexing manner.

"Partly, yes. It is really cold, isn't it?" I can't actually find error in his words, so I choose silence. He motions to the chair next to me. "Can I?"

*fake_choice
    #Nod.
    #Shrug.
        Whatever floats his boat, I suppose.
    #Give him a small smile.
        The laughter in his eyes is infectious and before I can think any better, I give him a small smile. This makes his smile widen more which, in turn, makes me remember myself and stifle the my own.
        
        It's better that way, in order not to give him any ideas. Like I would care for his company, or any such ludicrous thought.
    #Pat the spot next to me. "By all means, big guy."
        It would be fun to see if his pupils dilated, but alas, the flame of a small torch nearby doesn't let me in on this secret. He does, however, hold his pose for a moment too long, as if pondering if it's safe for him to sit next to me.
        
        Poor Tribune.
        
        He finally sits down, looks at me, looks away, then looks at me again. "I'm not sure how I feel about being called a 'big guy'."
        
        "You are one, aren't you?"
        
        He ponders on my words for a moment before nodding. "I suppose."

A strong mixture of his office's herbs lingers on him when he's this close. He keeps a respectable distance and maintains his gaze strictly on the river. Is he taking care not to look at me?

*if niall_voices
    Then, he disturbs the silence with a question that staggers my thoughts: "Have you heard those… voices anymore?"
    
    It's weird to hear someone talking about the weirdness that plagues my mind. I did told him about the voice. It makes sense that he would be worried about it.
    
    "You don't need to tell me. I'm sorry." He quickly takes the question back, I must've shown my shock on my features.
    
    *fake_choice
        #"I don't hear it anymore."
            *set manipulative +1
            It's a blatant lie, of course, but I don't feel comfortable about the topic in question. Soon the conversation dies out and his eyes are on the sky and the stars.
        #"I don't want to talk about it."
            "Of course. We don't need to. Just remember that you can talk to me if you need to." 
            
            I nod nonchalantly and hope the conversation dies with it.
        #"I hear it sometimes."
            *set manipulative -2
            My voice is hushed, afraid if I said it any louder it might condemn me further. He, however, just nods with a concerned frown. If I'm reading him correctly it's not necessarily a concern whether I should be put down because of my issues. It might be a concern over… me. As a person. And my well-being. 
            
            What a ludicrous thought. But still, it manages to smooth some of the edge off of my worries. Soon the conversation dies out and his eyes are on the sky and the stars.

*if not(niall_voices)
    Then, he turns his gaze to the sky.
    
*fake_choice
    #Look up with him.
        Ignoring the weird situation, I follow his gaze to the sky. There's a comfortable silence, even if I can't help the feeling that I should say something. 
        
        His presence emanates a strange warmth to the night. It's unexpected.
    #Look at him.
        He draws my eyes. His copper-colored beard looks extremely well-kept. It looks soft to the touch, as soft as a beard can be.
        *if beard
            I consciously touch my own. It's coarse.
        
        The skin underneath the moonlight is clear and spotless. It looks too perfect to belong to a soldier. His clothes are casual, as always. Seldom do I see him with his uniform on, nor armor. 
        
        He doesn't seem to notice my gaze on him. Or doesn't he care? It's hard to say with him. 
        
        Is he as obvious as he seems, or is it an act?
        
*if niall_manipulation
    This seems like the perfect opportunity to keep acting on my previous decision to manipulate the man. 
    *label ch3_niall_manipulation
    *set niall_father true
    *fake_choice
        #Feign innocence and try to pry information out of him.
            I cock my head to the side and look downwards. "You know… I get sad sometimes."
            
            "Sad over what?" He looks at me with slightly creased brows, as if worrying about me. Again. This is almost too easy.
            
            "That I'm here. In a foreign country."
            
            He nods vehemently. "I know. I know how that feels. You can always count on me."
            
            I grin inwardly but keep my features sad and innocent, as if I'm a lost cub, looking their way back home. "You are so kind."
            
            He shakes his head. "No, I'm not. But I try to be."
            
            Hm? "You're not? But you're the one who's always making sure everything is alright with me."
            
            Something dark flashes across his features but he quickly shakes it away. "I'm trying my best."
            
            "Niall?"
            
            "Yes?"
            
            "Why does the Legate appreciate you so much?"
            
            "He's my adoptive father."
            
            *if niall_adoption
                Oh. He was the one who adopted him. That makes Marcus Niall's half-brother. Interesting.
                
            *if not(niall_adoption)
                "Adoptive father?"
                
                "I was… adopted to Rome. He was the one who took me under his wings."
                
                That makes Marcus his half-brother. Interesting.
                
            "That's nice. He seems like a nice man." I smile, even if it hurts my cheeks to make up such a crude lie and look happy about it.
            
            Niall smiles, too. "He is. The whole family is nicer to me than I deserve."
        #Flirt boldly to confuse him.
            Without a warning I raise my gaze to meet with his. He twitches, it's so obvious it almost makes me smile.
            
            "You know, Lord Tribune…"
            
            "No, please call me—"
            
            "Lord Tribune. I've been so lonely here in this foreign country. Away from all the people I love."
            
            He gathers himself quicker than I thought possible. "I know!" He almost shouts but manages to hush his voice. "I know that. I've been trying to make you feel more at home."
            
            "I appreciate it so, so much, Lord Tribune."
            
            *fake_choice
                #Move my hand to his thigh.
                    I shift closer to him and put my palm on his thigh. It feels hard beneath my naked flesh, his legs are as strong as they look. With a flash of a lighting he turns his gaze to the intruding hand on his leg before growing completely red.
                    
                    "I—" He starts, but no words come. He licks his dry lips and tries again, all the while my hand lies on his limb. "Your hand is on my thigh."
                    
                    "Yes, it is."
                    
                    His eyes widen when he comes to the conclusion that I will do nothing to move the hand away.
                    
                    A sound that comes deep within his throat tries to implore me to do something about the awkward situation. That's how I interpret it, anyway. It's difficult to say, since no actual words leave his dried lips.
                    
                    I almost snort at the display. With a shake of my head I retreat my hand back to where it belongs and give him a small, apologetic smile. 
                    
                    "I just appreciate you."
                    
                    "Oh." He bobs his head. "I see. Umm. Not that I mind, of course, but would you mind warning me next time?"
                    
                    "Of course, Lord Tribune." I smile sweetly. No, I won't. It seems he's open to my advantages. Does it mean that he's interested in me, or is there something else?
                    
                    "Lord Tribune? Why does the Legate appreciate you so much?"
                #Bite my lip and look him into his eyes.
                    I make sure I hold his gaze before biting my lower lip. His gaze moves lower to my lip, as intended. And, as his gaze lands where I want it to, he turns red. Everything about this poor man turns as red as his hair is.
                    
                    It seems he's open to my advantages. Does it mean that he's interested in me, or is there something else?
                    
                    "Lord Tribune?" I whisper as his eyes still linger on my lips. 
                    
                    "Huh?"
                    
                    "Why does the Legate appreciate you so much?"
                    
            "He's my adoptive father."
            
            *if niall_adoption
                Oh. He was the one who adopted him. That makes Marcus Niall's half-brother. Interesting.
                
            *if not(niall_adoption)
                "Adoptive father?"
                
                "I was… adopted to Rome. He was the one who took me under his wings."
                
                That makes Marcus his half-brother. Interesting.
            
            Content with the newly-found information, I finally give him some room to breathe. He takes a deep breath but tries to make it less obvious than it is. He fails.
    
    Finally he bids me goodnight. But not before making sure I'm warm and fed, as if he'd bring me food and more cloaks if I wasn't. 
    
    And, just as he's about to offer something from underneath his cloak, I shoo him away into the night. But politely, of course, I need to keep my appearances.
    
    He looks too happy for his own good when he finally leaves.
    *goto_scene chapter_3 ch3_next_day
    
*if not(niall_manipulation)
    As I gaze at the shape of his sideprofile and his clueless features (somehow even his features seem clueless), there's only one thing that comes into mind. 
    
    He must be faking it. He's here to find out things about me. Maybe he suspects something. 
    
    *choice
        #I need to manipulate him before he does the same to me.
            *goto ch3_niall_manipulation
        #Try to figure out what his game is. 
            *goto ch3_what_your_game

*label ch3_what_your_game
*fake_choice
    #Do so bluntly.
        Being bold is the best way to deal with these sorts of people. 
        
        "Why did you bring me a cloak? Are you trying to manipulate me?"
    
        His eyes widen at the accusation. "What? No!" 
    
        Evidently I don't look like I believe him, since he repeats the sentiment: "No."

        "Of course you wouldn't tell me if you're manipulating me."

        "Well, that's true." He frowns. "But that doesn't mean that I'm manipulating you!"
    
        I don't believe him but at least he now knows that I'm onto him. It might scare him into hiding. Maybe I'll get rid of him. His attention only confuses me.
    
        "You look like you don't believe me."
    
        I squint my eyes.
    
        "I knew it! Well." He crosses his arms. "All I can do is to keep making sure that you know I care."
    
        What? No! That's the exact opposite of what you should do, you foolish man! But I keep my mouth shut. That thing already got me into this trouble, no need to push my luck.
        
        He's hiding something. I need to keep my eyes open.
        
    #Do so subtly.
        It's difficult to see behind his facade of kindness. He's a traitor, he switched sides and he serves the Romans. Is that even worse than just being a Roman?
        
        Yes. It is.
        
        "Hati? Why are you squinting your eyes at me?"
        
        Oh. I wasn't as inconspicuous as I thought. "I'm not squinting. This is my face."
        
        "I can see that. Well… You must be thinking why I am here."
        
        I nod. That much is true.
        
        "It's because I happened to walk by." He gives me a wide smile, as if it would make me believe him more. He's a bad liar. Or perhaps wants me to think that he is.
        
        As if I'd believe that. He's hiding something. I need to keep my eyes open.
        
Finally he bids me goodnight. But not before making sure I'm warm and fed, as if he'd bring me food if I wasn't. 

Just as he's about to offer something from underneath his cloak, I shoo him away into the night.

*goto_scene chapter_3 ch3_next_day


*label ch3_sentry_m
No. Why is it that man's face popping up from the opening? Ignoring the unusual nighttime guest, I quickly turn my gaze back to the spot where the person was. However, there's nothing.

The presence of that man forces my focus back to him. Why is he here?

"Lord Centurion?
*if disciplined <50
    What do you want now?"
*if disciplined >=50
    " What does he want now?
        
He hoists himself up with little trouble, straightening his tunic with a wide grin. His shins are wholly exposed, even if it's a cold night.

"Wipe that wide-eyed look from your face, you look like an idiot. I'm sure you needed some company."

I do as I'm told and give him a deep frown, instead. Why would he think I'd want [i]his[/i] company of all people.
        
"I know what you're thinking."

I almost sigh—

"You're wondering how I have time for a lowly soldier such as yourself."

*fake_choice
    #"Could you climb back where you came from, Lord Centurion?"
        "Ha! I'm not going anywhere before I have a word with you."
        
        That's a pity.
        
        "A pity, I'm sure," he says as he sits on a chair next to me, taking up space as if he owned the place. He's
    #"Hm." If I don't interact with him, maybe he'll go away.
        But of course he doesn't. When does he ever?
        
        "Don't mind me," he says as he sits down next to me, taking up space as if he owned the place. He's
    #That is a good question. Why is he here?
        "Don't mind me," he says as he sits down next to me, taking up space as if he owned the place. He's
accompanied with a huff of spicy scent invading my nostrils. Sweet and spicy. Some sort of perfume. Expensive, knowing him. 

[i]Knowing[/i] him? Now I claim to know anything about him? A shudder. 

He took a seat far enough for me to not feel attacked, but it's still uncomfortable. How could it not? Could that man sit anywhere where I wouldn't feel uncomfortable?

"I just chose to grace you with my presence. Count your lucky stars." He continues without a care in the world, a smug smile pervading his features. 

*fake_choice
    #"I wouldn't mind if you took your presence somewhere else, Lord Centurion."
        *set brazen +2
        *set rude -1
        "That's what your mouth says, but your eyes…"
        
        I have to bite my lip in order not to snap at him. That must be the oldest pick-up line in the books, primarily used by bullies. "That's your interpretation and you're welcome to it, Lord Centurion."
        
        "Why, indeed it is. I thank you for your permission."
    #"You can shove your presence up your arse. ...Lord Centurion."
        *set brazen +3
        *set disciplined -3
        *set rude +3
        *set marcus_friendship -1
        "What horrible words you're spouting, soldier! Color me shocked and appalled."
        
        I stop an eye-roll from happening and merely shift my gaze to the river. I'm giving him exactly what he wants but I can't help myself. Everything he spouts out makes me want to shove him into that river. He can probably swim, though.
        
        "Are you planning on jumping into that river?"
        
        "Not exactly, Lord Centurion, but close enough."
        
        "There's a murderous intent in your eyes, soldier. Oh! You were planning on throwing [i]me[/i] into the river."
        
        I remain silent, looking pointedly at the river, almost imagining him waving his arms in panic as I'd throw him in there.
        
        His smirk only manages to irritate me more. "Please don't do that, I can't swim."
        
        That's good to know.
    #Ignore him.
        *set disciplined +2
        I'm not in the mood for his games. 
        
        "Stunned into silence, I see."
        
        "I'm ignoring you, Lord Centurion."
        
        "That's not possible, we both know it."
        
        Unfortunately, he's right. The way he keeps babbling as if I'd care what he says, how he prances about the place as if he owns it; it does make it difficult to ignore him. And he seems too happy about the fact, too.
    #Just look at him warily.
        *set brazen -1
        "Don't look at me so timidly. I'm not here to eat you." His eyes quickly skim through me. "You look like you're not into that."
        
        "What did you—"
        
        He pretends he's lost his hearing and shifts his gaze to the river. There's a small smirk on his features. Of course there is. He knows exactly what he said.
        
        That bastard.
    #"Why, thank you, Lord Centurion. Whatever would I do without your unannounced presence!"
        "I'm happy you agree, soldier! I was certain you'd act all reluctant just for show. This, however, is a wonderful surprise."
        
        "Indeed, Lord Centurion. My day just keeps getting better and better. Your face lights up my whole day."
        
        His shakes his head, as if deeply disappointed. "You took it too far, soldier, no one believes that."
        
        Right. At least he knows that, too.
    #Something about him being here in this enclosed space is... disturbing.
        *set clueless +1
        I frown at the thought. For some reason I don't dare to look at his direction. Something about his closeness makes my heart beat faster. Why is he here? He's bothering me.
        
        The awkwardness must be because I'm annoyed at him. I am! I am annoyed that he's here.
        
        "You look like you're thinking something naughty."
        
        A flame of heat bursts through me, igniting everything its path. I bite my lip to smother my first instinct that is to punch him.
        
        "You're red as a pomegranate!" He chuckles. "Now, now. Don't look so perplexed. It's only natural that you'd think my presence is too much to handle."
        
        Just as I'm about to punch him in his stupid face, he shouts:

"Come here, girl!" 

His shout is followed by a series of strenuous grumbling can be heard from the ladder. It's not Robus, is it? Can dogs climb ladders?

As an answer to my question, Robus pokes her wet nose from the opening. She whines and lets out other miscellaneous dog-like sounds before finally managing to climb up. She gives me a magnificent conversational bark as a greeting before shaking her fur back into the right shape, clearly annoyed by the effort she had to make.

"She hates the ladder. She can barely climb up and absolutely refuses to climb back down. I need to take her down myself," Marcus says as he pats her side. Robus yawns quite theatrically, as if agreeing with the statement before giving me a glance. 'Do you want to pet me', she seems to ask.

*fake_choice
    #Oh, do I! Come here, girl!
        *set robus_friendship +1
        *set marcus_friendship +1
        *set ch3_robus_pet true
        I quickly get up from my chair and pat my thighs to invite her for a grand session of petting. It doesn't matter that she's the dog of that creature of a man. There are no bad dogs and dogs can seldom choose their owners. She perks up and moves to my side, leaning in on my leg with a low growl. 
        
        Marcus smiles at his dog. "That's her purring."
        
        "Dogs can purr?"
        
        "That's what she does when she's content."
        
        That's nice. She finally lies down next to me, moving her head on top of my foot as if saying 'you're not going anywhere'. So I sit back down, now denied of moving about.
    #I'll pass, thanks.
        *set robus_friendship -1
        She gives me a small whine and looks up to Marcus. He shakes his head sadly, certainly exaggerating the grief he's feeling over my rejection of his dog. I shake my head back to them and stare the river.

*page_break
As the wind slowly dies down, so does any trace of sound that came with it. Only a pair of guardsmen passing the tower can be heard from time to time; otherwise the fort is dead silent. As is the watchtower.

Robus's peaceful sleep-breathing sounds louder than it should now that there's nothing cloaking the sound. However, it's not unpleasant. It's making myself a bit sleepy. If I pretended that that man wasn't here, it would be almost a peaceful atmosphere. 

Marcus's gaze is on the sky. Finally he opens his mouth: "I used to study the stars when I was a little boy. Do you know of the constellations?" 

Of course I know of them.

He takes my silence as a sign of my ignorance. "That's Orion." He motions to a constellation even a child would recognize. I raise a brow at him, ready to dismiss his so called expertise before he continues:

"The story has it that there was a man, a hunter, who accidentally hurt Artemis during one of his hunts." He adds, before I can even think of asking: "A daughter of Zeus. A fierce hunter by her own right, but with an arrogant mindset gods tend to have. Wounded by her pride more than anything else, Artemis took revenge against the hunter and killed him. Once dead, he was transferred to the skies. Perhaps the other gods felt sympathy for him." 

He shrugs for an effect. 'Who knows', the shrug says.

"That star over there, that's Seirios. The loyal dog of the man. He got killed in the process, too."

I look at one of the brightest stars in the sky. It's alone, but close enough to Orion.

*fake_choice
    #"Poor dog." 
        *set ruthless -1
        I murmur, more to myself than the man next to me. Why would they kill the dog who did nothing to anyone? Why would they treat them just as an extension of their master? Ridiculous.
        
        *if ch3_robus_pet
            I instinctively pet Robus. Her warm, soft fur manages to soothe my sadness over the fact that people would just promptly kill dogs without a thought.
            
            Robus lifts her head a bit, as if to see what caused my mood to shift. I shake my head to confirm that I'm alright. It's enough for her and she lays her head back on the ground and continues sleeping.
    #"Why are you telling me this?" Why is he here lecturing me about constellations? Go away.
        He shrugs. "Don't listen if you don't care, you moron."
        
        Basically, he just comes here to have monologues to himself. 
        
        And he calls me a moron.
    #"Isn't that the Greek version of the lore?"
        He raises his brow, clearly not expecting me to pick up on that. "You are quite right."
        
        From what I've gathered, some Romans like to paint themselves smarter if they act like they know everything about Greek culture. This must make him an elitist. It would add up.
        
        "I just like the Greek names, alright? They're the same people."
        
        "Whatever you say, Lord Centurion."
        
        "Why do you look like you're judging me?"
        
        I shake my head. Of course I'm not.
    #Remain silent.

There's a barely visible smile on his face as he nods and continues: "I think that the dog was so sad over his human's demise that he wanted to follow him even to his death. Being a loyal friend that he was, he chose his fate in his own terms, thus becoming the brightest star of the sky. A fitting end for a man's best friend."

He falls silent, watching at the star he described with warmth. Finally, he says: "She's a good girl." For the first time in my time with him, his smile is genuine. 

*fake_choice
    #It's almost a handsome smile.
        *set m_ohnoheshot true
        His jawline enhances his smile. It's difficult to notice when he smirks. That gods-forsaken smirk just boils my blood. But when he smiles like that, it's almost a tolerable sight. It almost…
        
        A flash of terror cuts through me, halting my thoughts. I bite my tongue so hard that the taste of blood flavors my next thought: I am [b]not[/b] looking at his smile nor his jawline. Why would I do that? 
        
        With a frown I take another look at him. You stupid, creature of a man!
        
        "Careful. Your eyes look like they might fall out of their sockets."
        
        If I could, I would hiss at him. However, still rattled by my thoughts, no sound leave me.
    #It's a genuine smile of a man who killed my father.
        Hatred cuts through me, almost making me shudder. Why is he here? He should be dead for what he did.

*choice
    #I should use him. He seems interested in me and I can definitely use that as my advantage. 
        *goto ch3_marcus_manipulator
    #I can never forgive him but I won't try to manipulate him.
        *goto ch3_marcus_manipulator_nope

*label ch3_marcus_manipulator
*set marcus_manipulator true
He knows exactly what he's done and he knows I know. Is this his way of keeping an eye on me? Or has he taken an interest in me?
        
Whatever the reason might be, that's something I can work with.
        
I take a peek at him. As per usual, he looks as if he's let his guard down. But I know better. He's not stupid. If I go down the road of trying to manipulate him, I need to commit to it. And he might be doing the same for me.

No. He [i]is[/i] doing the same.
        
"Admiring the view?" He asks with a teasing grin.
        
*fake_choice
    #I can feel the heat rising up to my cheeks. I can use that to my advantage.
        My cheeks warm up. Even if it's an annoying nervous habit, that's something I can work with. He revels in making others squirm. He must enjoy seeing the red flushing my whole face aflame, as if he caught me doing something I shouldn't have. As if it was all his doing. 
            
        I cast my gaze down and take a sharp breath, letting him think he won. From the corner of my eye I see that he has a self-satisfied grin on his face. His chin is lifted, his throat exposed, he took the bait.
    #Glare at him as a challenge.
        I glare at him. He likes to make others squirm, but I won't give in. It might not be the most effective way to manipulate him but he will have to do with that. Besides, he seems like he enjoys the competition. Maybe this could work to my advantage.
            
        Fortunately, he does squint in delight. Yes. This will work.
            
        "You look like a wild beast." He bares his throat. It looks like an invitation for me to try and rip it to pieces.
    #Look at him with a deadpan face.
        *set disciplined +2
        My expressionless features silence him and he shifts uncomfortably. It might not be the best tactic to get his guard down but it will definitely rattle him. He expects a reaction. When I give him none, it will disturb him.
            
        "You're a hard audience to please, aren't you?" He pouts for the effect. But underneath all that charade, there's a need to read me. To get a reaction. I might get more out of him if I give him nothing.
    #"Hardly, Lord Centurion."
        "Not at all?"
        
        I shake my head.
        
        He pouts. "Rude."
        
        It's difficult to decide the tactic that would be the wisest to use with him. Perhaps, for now, I will just see what he's up to.
        
"Why are you here, Lord Centurion?" I ask, not expecting a clear answer. Perhaps I'm just poking around, see what to do with him.

"I came to see you."

"You've seen me now, Lord Centurion."

"Yes, I have. And you've managed to entertain me. Thank you." The smile is sarcastic, as always. "I will leave you to it, soldier. Please don't miss me too much when I'm gone."
*goto ch3_marcusbye

*label ch3_marcus_manipulator_nope
*set marcus_manipulator_nope true
As I watch his side-profile, the remnants of the violent shudder still linger on me. Then, I nod inwardly. I won't try to play him. If I wanted to manipulate him, it would be extremely dangerous. 

Relief relaxes my frame as I've made up my mind. 
        
However, it does beg the question as to what I'm going to do about him. Why does he keep on pestering me? Why won't he leave me alone? 

I just really, really want him to leave me alone. 
        
"You think too much." His words pull me back from my thoughts.

*fake_choice
    #"I would recommend you to try thinking for once, Lord Centurion."
        "I think when it's necessary. You however…" He scrutinizes my face with such intensity it almost makes me want to either cast my gaze down, sneer at him, or punch him in the face. He has no right to—
        
        "That's your problem. Your mind is in chaos."
        
        Now he's analyzing me! How dares—
        
        "You're doing it again."
        
        I bite my lip and focus on my teeth piercing my flesh.
        
        He bursts out laughing and smacks his leg. "You're good company, you moron." Then, he gets all serious. Which only tells me that he is going to say something stupid: "Now I must leave you. Please, don't miss me too much when I'm gone."
        
        I knew it.
    #"I think the problem is that I don't think enough, Lord Centurion."
        *set manipulative -1
        I sigh for the effect. It's true. I wouldn't even be here if I gave my actions a little thought. Even now I'm confessing my true feelings to the man who murdered my father. Even if it's just a little, I shouldn't give him even that.
        
        "Yes, I can see that." He nods. "You are bit of a moron."
        
        "Yes, Lord Centurion. I certainly am."
        
        As this agreement is reached, we both fall silent. Then, he gets up and gives me a grin. "I should go. Don't miss me too much when I'm gone."
    #Just give him a nasty glare.
        He snorts and shakes his head. "You look like a wild beast. That's a good look."
        
        A good look? Just look at him with an even nastier glare.
        
        He starts laughing. The laughter comes from deep within him, its tone is deep and robust. "You are a joy to be around, you little moron!"
        
        He gets up, still snickering. "Now, I really need to leave. Just don't miss me too much when I'm gone, alright?"
        
        [i]Miss[/i] him? I should punch that grin off his face.
        
        "Now, now! Remember to take deep breaths."
    #Remain silent. I'm tired.
        I almost sigh but that would be a reaction to him, too. So I choose to remain motionless and keep my breathing shallow.
        
        "Did you die?"
        
        I don't answer. I'm just so tired of him being here, of everything that's happened. I just really wish he would leave me alone.
        
        He frowns. "Not in the mood?"
        
        At least he realizes that much. His head is not completely filled with himself.
        
        "I will leave you to it. Just don't miss me when I'm gone, alright?"
        
        That manages to almost make me scoff at him but still I remain silent.

Finally, his head disappears from the opening, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
*goto ch3_marcusbye

*label ch3_marcusbye 
*if marcus_manipulator
    The road I've chosen will be fatal if something goes wrong. He's more than capable of killing me if he suspects something.
    
    I need to be ready to kill him, too. If he starts to suspect I'm not playing nice with him, I need to be ready.
    
    *fake_choice
        #I'm not sure if I could do it.
            I want to be able to do it but… I don't know if I can. I bite my lip in frustration. What am I going to do, then?
            
            With a shake of my head I shift my gaze to the river. The lazily moving river manages to hold my attention and frees me of any other thoughts.
        #I will kill him.
            *set marcus_killer true
            With knotted brows I nod. I can do it.
            *if marcus_killer
                I have already tried. He knows I want to do it and am capable of trying until I succeed. It makes the situation even more intriguing. I wonder when he finally lets his guard down so I can strike?
                
                A small smile creeps on my face. Yes. This will be interesting.
            *if not(marcus_killer)
                I haven't tried before but only because the circumstances were wrong. I need to be ready to strike when the opportunity presents itself.
                
                A small smile creeps on my face. Yes. This will be interesting.
*if not(marcus_manipulator)
    I sigh. Whatever will I do about this relationship? 
    
    A gag almost forces itself out of my mouth. [i]A relationship?[/i] I guess it could be called a relationship if I hate his guts. I have no idea why he's so invested in talking to me. 
    
    I wish he wouldn't do that.
*goto_scene chapter_3 ch3_next_day